


Sparrows and Nightingales, Roses and Thorns

by RoseByAnyOtherName (badxwolfxrising)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:07:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badxwolfxrising/pseuds/RoseByAnyOtherName
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rose has a chance encounter with the 11th Doctor, they let their bodies do the talking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparrows and Nightingales, Roses and Thorns

Rose Tyler's breath caught in her throat as she took in her surroundings. It was dark, but she would recognize those walls and support beams anywhere. The TARDIS console room. She felt a wash of relief so strong, she thought she might break down and cry right then and there. Still though...something was different. The room seemed dusty and had an overall air of disuse about it. She could still feel and almost hear the subtle hum of the TARDIS, but it seemed different and almost far away.

She put her hand down on the railing and drew it back, startled when something whispered softly across her fingers. She watched whatever it was fall to the floor, and felt silly when she looked down and realized it was just a tie. When she bent down to pick it up, she could see that it was slightly charred and more than a little worse for wear. But like the walls of the room, she would recognize the pattern of blue swirls against brown anywhere. Almost in disbelief, she clutched the tie tightly in her hand and brought it close to her chest. When she inclined her head down at it, she imagined she caught the ghost of his scent, something like the woods on a snowy night, wool and silk, and a breath of something that didn't quite smell like lavender. Perhaps real, perhaps just wishful thinking, but her heart leaped at the thought of him. The Doctor. It had been so long, she had started to feel discouraged as the dimension cannon had landed her in a dozen strange worlds with no hint of the transient Time Lord. Could it be that after all that time, her luck had taken a turn for the absolutely serendipitous and landed her exactly where she'd most wished to be?

Nerves jangling, she jammed the tie into her pocket and stepped out the doorway and into the hall.

It didn't look exactly the same as she remembered but it didn't seem entirely changed, either. As she approached the end of the hallway, she could hear footsteps and, inexplicably, singing. The melody was melancholy, the language unfamiliar, but none the less it filled her with an overwhelming sadness and images of the broken hearted.

They rounded around the bend at nearly the same time, bumping into one another as they did. The mystery voice belonged to a man who looked very much like Rose imagined an Oxford physics professor would, with a tweed blazer, braces, and a dark red bow tie. And right now he was gaping at her as though she had two heads.

“Impossible,” he whispered, reaching out to touch her face as though to assure himself she were real. “Rose Tyler.”

Rose stared back at him, unmoving. Green eyes reflected back at her recognition, but also confusion. It couldn't possibly be...?

“I'm looking for the Doctor?” she stammered, a statement that sounded more like a question. But something in the man's eyes told her she probably already had her answer, though she refused to believe it.

He shook his head, sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, muttering incomprehensibly. Abruptly he stood straight up, straightened his bow tie and smiled widely at her.

“Oh impossible Rose Tyler...you've found him!” he said, hugging her tightly and forcing her to let her gun fall to the floor.

“I don't understand,” she said out loud, though deep down she was sure she did. She just didn't know that she could bring herself to confront the truth.

“Oh Rose, I'm sorry. It's me, it's the Doctor. But I've regenerated. And what are you doing here, anyway? You're supposed to be back on Pete's World, with...well, my other self I guess.”

She stared at him, gobsmacked. “Have you gone mad? What are you talking about, your other self? I've been searching for you, trying to get back to you. But you've gone and changed...” she said, biting her lip.

“I don't know how you've managed it without causing a paradox, but somehow I think you've crossed your own timeline to end up here with me, right now. When was the last time you saw me?”

“You? I've never seen you before. The last time I saw the Doctor was the worst day of my life. Bad Wolf Bay. But you're him, aren't you? You're the Doctor, but in the future...” Rose said, unable to believe the words as they left her lips and yet knowing them to be true in her heart. While he might have been unfamiliar to her eyes, standing next to him felt like being the presence of an old and well-loved friend. Which of course she was. So why did she feel a crushing disappointment instead of joy?

“Extraordinary. So you're from a timeline before the reality bomb and the Meta Crisis. This shouldn't be possible, and yet here you are,” he whispered, his voice full of quiet wonder.

“The what and the who now? I don't understand. Tell me what's going on!” Rose said, her voice rising. She'd come so far, come all this way. She knew this must be the Doctor, but not the proper Doctor. Not...her Doctor.

“It's already happened for me, and it's a bit of a brilliant story, for what it's worth. You do end up finding me, you clever girl, and we save the world again. The whole universe, actually. But it hasn’t happened to you yet, so I really shouldn’t say any more. That’s a day that should never be undone.”

Rose felt dizzy. The shock of being back on the TARDIS, coupled with the Doctor's revelation, left her feeling like she'd been socked in the gut. She knew she should be overjoyed that she had found him again, but it just didn't seem right. She sagged against the wall and slid down to the floor.

“I'm sorry, this has to be especially confusing for you. Even I'm not quite sure what the hell is going on, really...” he said, scratching at the back of his collar. He sat down on the floor next to her and cleared his throat. “I know this probably isn't what you would've wanted, or expected. I know you were rather...attached to my last regeneration. That body went through a lot with you, and you with it. But all the same...I've missed you terribly. I'm glad you're here, Rose.”

Hearing her name again seemed to snap her out of the fog. “You missed me?”

He seemed almost offended by the question. “Of course I missed you! How could I not? You were my entire world when I lost you, there was no one else. I was broken for a long time after what happened at Canary Wharf. I got better, I met new people, wonderful people. I went and saw and did wonderful things, and terrible things. But I never stopped thinking about you Rose, and I never stopped-,” but he did stop. The words lodged in his throat.

“What? You never stopped what, Doctor?” she asked.

“Loving you,” he whispered, finally. “I never stopped loving you Rose, even if I couldn't say it. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't say that to you, before it was too late.”

“It's not too late, Doctor,” Rose croaked tearfully. He reached out, gently wiped the tears from her cheek with the ball of his thumb, and held his open palm against the side of her face. His expression was unreadable, and when he leaned closer to her she was sure he would kiss her. Instead, he took her hands and helped her to her feet before wrapping her in another hug.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that,” he murmured into her hair. Holding Rose felt so right and natural, he had a pang of guilt when he thought of River.

River, his wife, a word which still felt weird when he said it out loud. His dead wife, which made him a widower yet again. This was the woman who had once phoned him up out of the blue to try and convince him to have a threesome with James Dean; he somehow doubted she'd mind an innocent embrace between two long lost friends. Although if the embrace lasted much longer, it might not stay so innocent... The Doctor hastily extracted himself, blushing as though Rose were the one who could read people's thoughts.

“Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” she teased, almost unable to help herself.

“Oh, it's a banana,” he said, taking the fruit out and flipping it in the air for her benefit. “Hungry?”

“Good to see some things never change,” she laughed.

In spite of the lightness of the exchange, the air was heavy. There was a certain guardedness to the both of them as they tried to navigate their unforeseen reunion, and the silence that fell between them was awkward. Unspoken words waited to be said, but neither seemed willing to initiate the conversation that they both knew had to happen. Instead, the Doctor held his hand out to Rose and wiggled his fingers at her, the way he always would before to indicate that she should come with him. It seemed awkward in this body. There was a very long moment where he thought she might refuse, but she finally, hesitantly placed her hand in his own and allowed him to steer the way down the winding corridors of the TARDIS.

“So...,” she finally asked, tilting her head at him. “How did it happen? Who were you saving?” She didn't elaborate, but of course she didn't need to. The question would've been implicit, even if he wasn't able to pick up on her thoughts.

“I absorbed a fatal dose of radiation, to save Donna's grandfather. He was old, I could've let him die, but I didn't. I guess, in some ways, maybe I was compensating for the fact that I couldn't help Donna. It was a hard regeneration, though. Rassilon knows I tried to fight it as long as I could. I wasn't ready. Nearly tore the TARDIS clean apart.”

“Donna?” Rose asked, obviously confused.

“She traveled with me for a while, after you,” he said, surprised. “You made contact with her, in your parallel universe. But obviously I guess that hasn't happened to you yet, either...”

“Apparently a lot of things haven't happened to me yet,” she replied quietly. “And they won't, if I stay here with you.”

“Yes...I know.”

They walked the rest of the way to the console room in somber silence. Immediately, he busied himself flipping levers and spinning dials. Rose tilted her head first to look up, and then down around her. She rested against the edge of the console.

“It’s so different...so much bigger. Why’d you change it?”

“Oh, I didn’t. The TARDIS did. When I regenerated, it had a bit of a regeneration, too. That secondary console room was very badly damaged by the radiation, it had to go into storage for repairs. So there’s this one instead. It’s a bit more...polished, I suppose. A little less organic looking,” he said, stumbling nervously over the words.

“I miss the old one,” she said in a tone that indicated she meant more than just the TARDIS.

The Doctor swallowed hard, and pulled his hands through his hair again. That was a nervous habit he had never been able to shake. So long as he had hair, he was apt to be trying to pull it out whenever he got nervous or stressed. But this was Rose! He would say his Rose, but he knew that wasn’t true, not entirely. Rose would always belong to those darker, more human versions of himself. Still, a part of him ached to reach out and touch her, to hug her against him and bury his face in her honeysuckle-scented hair the way he had done when he’d been another man.. Just one moment, he knew that was all he had. She couldn’t stay here, she would have to go back to her world, to await the point where his past and her future would eventually collide. 

No matter what, he could never hold onto Rose Tyler. She was almost ethereal, in that sense. Whenever she came back into his grasp, something else would always tear them apart. When he’d worn leather, pulling the time vortex from Rose’s mind had just been the beginning. When he’d worn pinstripes and plimsolls they had been separated and reunited a dozen times and in some silly way he thought maybe the Universe kept pushing them together. But then the Universe had laughed in his face, tearing her away from him and putting a wall between them. Twice. Somewhere in the future she was happy with a man who had his face and memories, but only one heart. It shouldn’t kill him to think about it, but his lips turned down into a frown.

He always lost everyone. Rose had been torn away. Martha ran away. Donna lost her mind. River lost her life. Last in a long line, Amy and Rory...and he still couldn’t really bear to think about that, it was so fresh. He always lost everyone. It hardly seemed fair, but then why should the man who destroyed lives deserve to hold onto those sparks of life for more than just a moment?

“Well, at least we’ve got right now,” he said quietly.

“What?” Rose asked.

“Sorry, did I say that out loud? I was thinking to myself,” the Doctor apologized.

“What were you thinking?” she asked, coming to stand behind him.

“I was thinking that I don’t know if I can bear to let you go again,” he said, his voice cracking just the slightest. “But I don’t really have a choice.”

He could feel her wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face against the back of his shoulder. “I don’t have to go, Doctor. I could stay. I’ve gotten used to a new you before...I could do it again.”

“No,” he said firmly. “No, there’s a life that you are meant to live in that other world. And it doesn’t include me. Not this version of me, anyway. You’ve got to go, Rose. You can’t stay here...and it would just be selfish of me to suggest otherwise.”

“Do I have to go this minute?” she replied, her breath warm on the back of his neck.

He sagged against the console in acquiescence. “No...no, I suppose not. Not this very minute.”

“Good,” she whispered, moving to face him. She pressed her lips against his, softly at first, and then with a bit more pressure. He knew he should protest, be the voice of reason, but he was feeling just a little selfish. Even he needed creature comfort every once in awhile, and surely the Universe he had saved a dozen times over owed him at least that? He kissed her back, sucking on her lower lip, tasting her and being flooded with dozens of memories. They fell back against the console and his hand accidentally brushed a lever, a causing a whir of angry protest from the TARDIS.

“Ah...maybe we should do this somewhere else?” he murmured into her mouth, which felt rather like velvet against his tongue.

“Such as?” she said, unworking his tie with light and quick fingers. The thin strip of fabric whispered across his shoulder and slid to the ground.

“Follow me,” he said, taking her hand and not waiting for an answer.

He lead her down the corridors, some that seemed vaguely familiar, others completely different. She recognized the door to the swimming pool, at least one of the galleys, and the library with the giant fireplace that she had always loved sitting by. Other doors though seemed ominous, and she swore she saw shadows lurking around some corners. She just squeezed his hand tighter when she thought she saw things. She trailed the hand that wasn’t occupied by his across the TARDIS walls as they went, and she liked the pleasant hum of energy it sent through her when she did. She would always be safe in this place. They came to stop before a door she recognized as her own, and she felt the flutter of anticipation in her gut and between her legs.

“After you,” he said, although she took that to be a request for consent. He was giving her a chance to change her mind, to call it off. After all, it was definitely probably not a good idea what they were about to do. Still, this was the first hint of the Doctor she had encountered in months, and despite his reassurance that she was destined to encounter her Doctor sometime in the future, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was just trying to give her hope when he knew it was hopeless. She was not familiar with this version of him, but she still had seen that wounded look in his eyes. What if he knew that they would never see each other again? She had to hope that wasn’t the case...but what if?

He seemed to decide that she would need a gentle prodding, and so he took her by the elbow and guided her across the threshold of the room. The door slid closed quietly behind them, and they stood facing each other next to what used to be her bed.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” he confirmed.

“Only if you promise you won’t talk the entire time,” she teased. “But why here, why my bedroom?”

“Because it was yours. And when you are gone again, this room will be too,” he said simply, as though that were all the explanation she needed. Rose knew how to read between the lines though, and the rest of the explanation was there in the quiet anguish of his voice. Once she was gone, he didn’t want to have to think about it. That was why they were here and not the console room, the garden, his own bedroom, the library with the big fireplace, or any of their other favorite spots. He spent too much time in those places to be constantly confronted by her memory. Here, it would be hidden. Out of sight, out of mind, a single moment in Time. Here they could get lost, with the understanding that no one would ever find this place again, not if the Doctor didn’t want it to be found.

He stared at her for a long time before he finally moved to slip her jacket from her shoulders. Wordlessly, he undressed her and she let him, lifting a leg or tilting an arm as needed to free herself from the burden of her clothing. By the time he got to her knickers his fingers were shaking, and the feeling of his hands against the bare skin of her waist made her break out in gooseflesh. The thin satin undergarment ghosted to the ground, and she stepped out of it and kicked it to the side, an afterthought. The Doctor was still wearing all his clothes though, so Rose set about to remedy that. She had gotten as far as the top button of his trousers when he evidently became impatient and finished the job himself, sliding his trousers and pants to the floor in one smooth motion. He tripped out of them, significantly less graceful. Finally unencumbered by his clothes, he continued his appraisal of her nude form in the soft light of the bedroom, except now she could see the visual evidence of his appreciation for her form.

“You got older,” he said softly.

“So still rude then, I see. Maybe you aren’t so different from the other you. You sure know how to flatter a girl, Doctor,” Rose said, crossing her arms in front of her.

“No, you misunderstand me. Rose, you were a girl when I lost you. You’re a woman now. Definitely a woman,” he said, his voice thick.

“You don’t have to feel guilty about stealing my innocence, if that’s what’s got you flustered like a school boy. I did get older. _You_ made me older, or travelling with you did anyway. And trying to find you..yeah, that took time. I got older. But I never stopped loving you, and I want this. I _need_ this. And I think you do too. So just shut up and kiss me,” she said, her breath rushed.

“Well, I never could say no to you…” he said, rounding on her with a wolfish grin. The two of them tumbled to the bed then, each tangled up in the other, locked at the lips and the hips. The Doctor’s hands moved over her body with the urgency of a man facing the end of the world. And who knew, maybe he was. She had, after all, encountered him travelling on his own. What circumstances had lead to him being on his own again?

The thought was lost though as the Doctor busied his mouth at the soft spot on her throat, the place where her pulse beat strongest and hottest. He pulled her body tight against him and lifted her right leg so that it was resting on his right hip. His erection throbbing hotly against the small of her back, he let his free hand wander across the planes of her body, idly pinching and stroking as he went. He rubbed her flushed thighs, pulled his fingers through damp curls, and maddeningly, touched her every place except the spot where she was aching for it. 

So still a tease then, too. Right, well two could certainly play _that_ game. She arched her back against him and reached over her hip to squeeze his bum. He nipped her shoulder, not gently, and sucked in his breath. He moved out from behind her and let gravity roll her gently onto her back before moving to kneel between her knees. She propped herself up on her elbows and caught his gaze for a moment. She couldn’t tell if it was the light in the room or not, but his eyes looked almost black. He smiled at her, and it was the smile of a man who knows he’s going insane but can’t do anything about it.

“No, certainly not a girl anymore,” he whispered, stroking her between her folds.

“You promised you wouldn’t talk,” she panted.

“So I did,” he replied mildly, dipping his head down between her legs. At the first touch of his tongue against her skin, she was fighting the urge not to buck her hips against him. Instead, she tangled her fingers in his hair and bit back a moan as he swirled his tongue in delicious little circles around the swollen bud of her clit. Several times she came close to tumbling over the edge, but he would pause or change pace and bring her back in. He had to be doing it on purpose-not even he was that obtuse, and she knew he was a touch-telepath. He knew exactly what he was doing. She growled low in her throat and tugged on his hair, bringing his head up.

“What?” he asked innocently, a sparkle in his eye that reminded her achingly of the Doctor she thought of as her own.

“You know what. Time is short. Make love to me or fuck me, but don’t tease me, Doctor. It’s cruel.”

Suitably chastened, he moved to straddle her hips. “Fine. I will. Do that thing you mentioned, that is. Not teasing you...making love to you.”

“Good,” she replied, a little more breathily than she might have intended.

He kissed her collarbones, kissed the curve of her jaw, the shell of her ear, her shoulder. He began to hum, low and sonorous, a tune that Rose didn’t recognize, but didn’t need to. Something in her heart recognized the melody as a love song, and she guessed the language was that of the Doctor’s own people, long dead. He dropped down onto his elbows so that they were face to face and gathered her up by the shoulders into his embrace. He whispered something in her ear that sounded like music, kissed her firmly on the mouth, and thrust up inside of her. He held her tightly like that for a moment, the two of them drawn taut against each other, before he let her back down against the mattress gently. Using his palms to support himself he began to move inside of her, picking up a gentle but steady rhythm that gradually deepened. Rose thought to move her hands so that they were resting on the Doctor’s shoulders, her nails scratching lightly at his skin. He groaned something unintelligible in response.

“Mmm?” Rose mumbled, finding it difficult to put form to words.

“Harder!” he urged, grabbing her by the hips. She dug her nails in and drew them down his back, and he responded by grinding against her so fiercely that she thought it would probably leave bruises. Heat was beginning to pool deep in her belly when he gathered her up in his arms again, only this time he held her tight against him and rolled over so that he was laying flat on his back with Rose straddling him. He let his hands rest on her bum, which he gave an appreciative squeeze. “Go on. You’re so close, and I want to watch you fall.”

Letting her hands rest on his shoulders she began to rock against him, leaning forward to brush her lips against his. She still tasted a bit of herself there on him. She tried kissing him near the soft spot of his throat to see what sort of response it would provoke, and sighed appreciatively when he clutched even harder at her and began thrusting upwards. Finally, she felt the blood rushing to her center and she rocked against him, feeling him grow stiffer underneath, she shuddered and sighed as she came and felt him tighten his grip on her hips as he did the same. Spent, she collapsed against his chest and he folded his arms around her.

She sensed that he wanted to talk, or at least that he felt the need to fill the emptiness with some sort of sound. Eventually, they shifted so that Rose was tucked into the crook of the Doctor’s arm, resting her head on his chest and her hand on his hip. He began to sing low again, and though the melody sounded almost the same, this time it sounded more like a lullabye than a love song.

“What are you singing about?” she yawned sleepily.

“Fire and ice. Suns and moons. Sparrows and nightingales. Roses and thorns.”

“In the future, will your pillow talk make more sense?”

“I very much doubt it,” he said with a chuckle, running his fingers through her hair. “Didn’t you have somewhere to be going, anyway?”

“Did I? It can wait,” she said, nestling against him.

“It can? I thought it might,” he whispered, his eyes going dark again.


End file.
